The moment Morin gave the order to assemble, the sharp assembly whistle cut through the quiet of the camp. The entire Teaching Assault Battalion immediately began operating at high speed, like a finely tuned machine that had been instantly activated.
Soldiers streamed out of the barracks, rapidly forming ranks on the training ground.
Company Commanders and NCOs loudly relayed the orders, their expressions more serious than ever.
The soldiers, who were previously immersed in a mix of excitement and anxiety over the impending war, felt the full, suffocating pressure of being on the verge of combat for the first time.
Morin stood at the window of his office, watching the busy scene below.
He could see the faces of the young soldiers, a mixture of tension, excitement, and a hint of subtle fear.
Before long, a second order was sent from the General Staff Headquarters.
“The 1st Teaching Assault Battalion of the Guard is to immediately deploy! Proceed to the military railway station outside Dresden, join the sequence of the Second Army commanded by General Karl von Bülow, and maneuver toward the border between Saxony and the United Kingdom of Flanders-Berg.”
The order was brief but contained massive information.
“Western Front… Second Army…” Morin stared at the telegram, his eyes darkening.
It seemed the General Staff’s plan was indeed similar to the ‘Schlieffen Plan’ of the other timeline.
The first phase of mobilization had essentially begun on the day the general mobilization order was formally issued at 5:00 PM on August 1st.
The military railway and personnel departments required to transport the troops were fully in place. Ammunition depots, supply depots, and border fortresses along the entire route entered a state of high alert.
Border defense units moved into combat positions. Reservists were called to the front line. Officer training for reserves was abruptly halted, and they were quickly commissioned and dispatched to fill the numerous vacant command posts.
The General Staff of the Saxon Empire was the ‘creator’ of the Empire’s series of astonishing victories, starting in the 1860s.
This series of victories culminated in the triumph of the ‘Saxo-Gaulish War’ of 1870–1871.
The most crucial contribution made by the General Staff to enhancing the Saxon Imperial Army’s combat effectiveness was the formulation of annual mobilization and deployment plans, which were updated each year based on the current situation.
These tasks included defining assembly areas, perfecting operational strategy, and the most complex task of all—creating an intricate railway transportation timetable for the massive forces based on the mobilization order.
As one of the personnel being transported by rail, Morin experienced firsthand the efficiency of the Saxon Empire’s mobilization and the convenience of its national railway network.
According to the plan, they would board the train on the evening of August 1st and arrive at the border city of Aachen by August 3rd, where they would assemble and cross the border to begin operations.
News gathered from military railway officers and transport department personnel continuously updated the 【Intelligence】 tab with the Saxon Empire’s almost frantic mobilization status.
Every 10 minutes, a train packed with soldiers and equipment would thunder across the Cologne-Wettin Bridge over the Rhine.
This ‘Technical Ballet,’ meticulously planned by the General Staff down to the minute, would swiftly transport the first batch of 1.66 million assembled soldiers, 118,000 horses, thousands of vehicles, and 400,000 tons of supplies to their various staging areas using 20,800 transport trains.
The General Staff’s overall strategy was unsurprising to Morin, still clearly derived from the ‘Schlieffen Plan.’
It involved launching a powerful right hook, quickly crossing the United Kingdom of Flanders-Berg, then sweeping across the north of the Gallic Republic like a massive revolving door, capturing Paris, and encircling the main Gallic Army forces in the southern region.
This time, because the threat on the Eastern Front was significantly minimized and they had the Provisional National Government of Western Russia as an ally, the General Staff deemed that the Eastern Front would not face an immediate crisis.
Furthermore, with the various contingents of the International Brigade returning home from the Aragon campaign, the influx of this combat-experienced ‘blood’ had actually significantly boosted the combat power of the Provisional National Government of Western Russia’s Army.
These factors allowed the total force on the Western Front to reach 8 Army Groups. The Eastern Front was temporarily defended by border troops and mobilized reservists.
In addition to one extra Army Group on the Western Front, there were some differences in the selection of commanders for the Army Groups compared to the world Morin knew.
General Mackensen, after returning from the Aragon campaign, was quickly promoted to General based on his excellent performance.
Chief of Staff Moltke the Younger, impressed by the old General’s offensive prowess in mobile warfare, placed him in command of the First Army, totaling 320,000 men.
The Second, Third, and Fourth Army Groups were commanded by Generaloberst Karl von Bülow, Max von Hausen, and Duke Albrecht, respectively.
The Second Army Group totaled 260,000 men, while the Third and Fourth Army Groups each had 180,000 men.
These four Army Groups would form the formidable right hook.
The Fifth and Sixth Army Groups were commanded by Crown Prince Georg and Crown Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria. These two Army Groups totaled 200,000 and 220,000 men, respectively, and were tasked with crossing the Ardennes Forest and advancing through the center to tie down Gallic forces.
Finally, the Seventh and Eighth Army Groups, totaling 300,000 men, were commanded by Josias von Heeringen and Alexander von Kluck, executing defensive operations in Alsace-Lorraine.
These two Army Groups would face the main attack of the Gallic Army before the right hook landed, serving as the main resistance on the Western Front.
As the sky gradually brightened, the train carrying the Teaching Assault Battalion soldiers stopped at a temporary siding to take on fuel and water.
The soldiers were allowed to disembark and stretch their legs.
Morin also stepped out of the carriage, breathing in the cool morning air.
He saw the soldiers huddled in small groups, eating dry rations and talking in low voices.
The tension they felt upon departure was gone, replaced by a sense of anticipation for the future and a subtle bewilderment.
Kleist walked over, handing Morin a flask of warm water—a habit he had picked up from Klaus and Bowman.
“Sir, everything is normal.”
“Good.” Morin nodded, taking the flask and drinking a sip. “Tell the companies to snap to attention. We are not far from Aachen.”
“Yes!”
Just then, the sound of an approaching train rumbled on the distant tracks.
A train packed with artillery, vehicles, and cavalry sped past them, heading forward.
The spectacular sight caused all the soldiers of the Teaching Assault Battalion to stop their activities and watch.
A powerful sense of pride and participation welled up in everyone’s hearts.
They were part of this steel torrent, and they were about to participate in a great war that would decide the fate of the Empire.
Morin watched it all, his heart unusually calm.
He knew these roaring trains were carrying countless vibrant lives into a massive furnace.
And he, and the battalion behind him, were about to throw themselves into it…
“After this war is over, I wonder how many of them will return alive…” Morin couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.
After the short break, the resupplied train started up again, heading at full speed toward its final destination: Aachen.
The train arrived punctually in Aachen on the evening of August 3rd.
The platform was already packed with waiting logistics personnel and military police.
The soldiers of the Teaching Assault Battalion, commanded by their officers, quickly unloaded all equipment and supplies.
After confirming that all personnel and materiel were accounted for, Morin received the latest order from the Second Army Forward Command—the unit was to immediately march toward Visé, which would be the crossing point for the entire Second Army across the border.
The roads on the outskirts of Aachen, shrouded in night, were filled with long, gray columns of troops.
The soldiers of the Teaching Assault Battalion marched toward the town of Visé in the northeast, carrying their heavy packs with steady strides.
Despite two days of train travel, their rigorous daily training had kept them in excellent physical condition.
Apart from a few new recruits who looked slightly fatigued, the morale of the entire unit remained high.
Morin rode on horseback, walking side-by-side with Kleist and Manstein at the front of the column.
He unfolded his map and, illuminated by the lantern Manstein held, meticulously studied the route ahead.
“Visé…” He pointed to the small town on the map. “This is a crucial crossing point on the Meuse River, and one of the nodes connecting the Saxon and United Kingdom of Flanders-Berg railway networks.”
“Choosing this as the breakthrough point is logical,” Manstein commented.
“But the fighting that follows won’t be easy. Would you like to make a wager with me about the enemy’s next move?” Morin said, suddenly interested.
Manstein: “What are we wagering on, sir?”
Kleist: “You are the commander, sir. We cannot wager with you.”
Their contrasting responses perfectly illustrated their distinct personalities.
But Morin continued:
“I believe that after our forces cross the border, they will not face intense resistance. The Army of the United Kingdom of Flanders-Berg will likely retreat quickly into the protection of the fortress line rather than engage us in a field battle. It should be the same for the First Army.”
“No resistance at all…” Manstein looked thoughtful.
“Yes. The disparity in troop numbers and quality is too great. A field battle would be suicide for them. We will see tomorrow if I am right.”
The march continued for half the night.
As the first gray light appeared on the horizon, the unit finally arrived at the designated staging area outside the town of Visé.
The area had already been transformed into a massive military encampment.
Countless tents dotted the landscape. Smoke from cooking fires drifted up. The neighing of horses and the clamor of soldiers filled the air.
The 260,000 men of the Second Army were converging on this location and other staging areas further back. The scene was spectacular.
The Teaching Assault Battalion quickly set up camp in its assigned area.
The soldiers, after expertly pitching their tents, did not rest like other units. Instead, they insisted on digging hasty field fortifications and setting up sentries.
These regulations had become ingrained habits over the past three months of training.
After arranging all matters related to the camp, Morin, accompanied by Manstein, headed to the Second Army Forward Command Post nearby to report.
The Command Post was set up in a temporarily requisitioned small manor.
Armed guards stood watch at the entrance. Staff officers hurried about, their faces serious.
After Morin and Manstein reported their identities, a young aide-de-camp led them into the manor’s main operations room.
As expected, the operations room was thick with cigarette smoke and tension.
A massive map covered the long table. A dozen or so senior officers and staff officers were gathered around the map, engaged in an intense discussion.
At the head of the table, a tall, imposing old General listened to his subordinates’ reports with a frown.
This was the Commander of the Second Army, the 66-year-old Generaloberst Karl von Bülow.
The aide-de-camp approached Bülow and whispered a few words in his ear.
Bülow looked up, his gaze sweeping over Morin and Manstein standing by the door.
His eyes were sharp, carrying a hint of scrutiny.
“Are you Captain Friedrich Morin, the commander of the Teaching Assault Battalion, sent by the General Staff?” Bülow’s voice was low and powerful.
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Morin stepped forward and saluted.
“Following the order of the General Staff, the 1st Teaching Assault Battalion of the Guard reports for duty!”
Bülow nodded, gesturing for them to relax.
“Very good, Captain Morin.”
A strained, polite smile crossed his face.
“I am deeply honored that the General Staff has sent your elite unit to reinforce my Second Army.”
General Bülow showed considerable deference to Captain Morin, treating him almost as a peer-level officer, clearly acknowledging the respect due to the Crown Prince and the General Staff.
After a few brief formalities, Morin followed the protocol, briefly introducing the Teaching Assault Battalion’s personnel structure, equipment, and combat capabilities to Bülow and the assembled staff officers.
Upon hearing that the battalion was equipped with a high proportion of automatic weapons and that every soldier had undergone rigorous assault training, the staff officers present looked surprised.
They whispered to each other, filled with curiosity about this ‘new-style’ unit.
General Bülow, however, showed no change in expression after the introduction.
He merely offered a string of polite words, such as “We will not fail His Majesty the Emperor’s expectations” and “We will surely earn honor for the Empire.”
Morin listened patiently, but he already had his answer.
Sure enough, the final order came.
“Captain Morin, you and your men have had a long journey,” Bülow waved a hand dismissively. “The unit will remain on standby and rest for now.”
“The Command Post will notify you of the specific operational mission later, depending on the circumstances of the battle.”
“Yes, Your Excellency!”
Morin showed no sign of disagreement. He saluted again, then withdrew from the operations room with Manstein.
Walking back to the camp, their shadows stretched long in the moonlight.
Manstein, who had been silent throughout, finally couldn’t hold back.
“Sir, I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?” Morin looked at him, smiling.
“Why… are we being held in reserve?” Manstein’s voice was filled with confusion and frustration.
“We are an elite unit under the General Staff’s direct command, meant for hard fighting and cracking enemy defenses! The enemy is right before us, and war is imminent. Why are we being kept in the rear?”
Morin found the frustrated look on his young Staff Officer’s face somewhat amusing.
“Don’t rush, Manstein.”
He patted the other man’s shoulder—chances to pat a future Field Marshal were rare.
“The war has only just begun. There will be plenty of fighting for you.”
“But…”
“What do you think General Bülow is thinking right now?” Morin interrupted him, asking a counter-question.
Manstein paused, falling into deep thought.
“General Bülow…” Manstein frowned, earnestly trying to guess the Army Group Commander’s mind.
“He… he might not have figured out how to use us yet?” he said, somewhat unsure.
(End of this Chapter)
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